we're crying and laughing in the rain
living in the absence and peak of pain
chasing our memories of beauty and ink and rage
running and running against the ever present current of change
soaking in the feelings, the visions of pictures months and years gone
intoxicating, agonizing, smothering whirlwinds as soon as we're alone
don't you understand? you can't catch what's flown away with the breeze
but they appear to be the only thing my mind requires to appease
YOU ARE READING
Serenity - A Journal Of Some Sort
RandomThey tell me that what I create is chaos. But what I create is the only thing that brings me serenity. ~ warning: this book abruptly switches from deep personal narratives to really random stuff so hop on and enjoy the ride
